A Macho Man
by starlit skyes
Summary: "Next person that grabs your butt like that..." His lips grazed her cheekbone provocatively. "If he's not me, then I get to kill him." "Oh, protective." She giggled lightly against his mouth, and whispered, "that's macho, too."


"What the _heck_ was that for? Are you freaking _crazy_?"

She'd finally managed to drag him away from the brawl - heaving him away from the fight while he was still busy punching the hell out of the moron's face had beens something of a miracle - but finally she had him alone in a corridor, and she rounded on him furiously.

He glared at her for a moment before he took a deep breath. He looked away from her determinedly, straightening his torn robes, running a shaky hand through his hair, but she could swear she saw his cheeks flush. He glanced up at her, his eyes cool gray and defensive.

"If you hadn't noticed, Weasley," he drawled, "that wanker grabbed your arse."

"It was _my_ arse!" Ginny exclaimed. "I could handle it!"

"Sure you could," said Draco skeptically. "What were you going to do? Toss your hair in his face?"

"Maybe!" she returned. "What concern is it of yours, anyway? I walk by that corridor all the time. It's _always_ full of you obnoxious Slytherins. I know how to take care of myself."

"See, that's the problem with you stupid Gryffindors." Draco shook his head distastefully - hiding the wince when he realized his neck felt really sore - and shoved his hands into his pockets. "You think you're so brave and wonderful. Listen up, Weasley. Those guys could have you cornered and yelling for help in a matter of minutes."

"Oh, yeah?" she said derisively. "I'm so terrified!"

"You should be. You probably are."

"Listen, I'm not scared of a bunch of big fools. In case you haven't noticed, I happen to know how to use a wand."

He knew that. He knew she was positively wonderful when incensed - heck, he knew that from personal experience. But seeing that bastard's hand clamp over her in that way, seeing the hurt flash into her eyes...

God, it had felt so good to hit him. Hit him until his face was bloody pulp, until the hand that had touched her was probably broken in a few places.

Draco clenched his teeth. He was wading into dangerous waters. "Well," he said tersely, "if that's all, then...Ta, Weasley."

He made to turn around and walk away, but suddenly she caught him by the arm, efficiently stopping him.

"What now?" he said, annoyed.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why did you hit him?"

"God, Weasley, how thick are you?" He turned around again, shaking off her hand. "Okay, if it makes you feel any better, I hit him because today is my Violence Day, and I go around randomly punching all my classmates on this solemn day every year. Happy?"

The bint never gave up, did she? For Merlin's sake, what Trent had done was plain _sick._ How was he supposed to stand around and watch that?

"That's not what I mean," she snapped impatiently, and saw in some satisfaction his eyes getting defensive again. And he was blushing again! Later on today, she would probably enjoy this.

But Draco Malfoy, Git of the Year, coming to rescue her dignity? Well, it didn't ring very true. And she'd squeeze the answer out of him, no matter what.

"I mean, why _did_ you come to my rescue? What are you, my knight in shining armor?"

He stared at her as that question stung.

Merlin's pants, what had he gotten himself into? Why _had_ he done his ridiculous chivalry thing? He was goddamn Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sakes. He didn't go around defending Gryffindor girls. Actually, he didn't go around defending _anyone_. He didn't 'go around'. Rather, he strutted, intimidating people, being a snob, and terrifying little children. Gosh, he had a reputation to keep up.

"I would have done it for any girl," he muttered unconvincingly. "I happen to have been raised that way."

"Yeah, right!" Ginny snorted. "My arse, Draco Malfoy. You'd probably have grabbed it yourself if you weren't such a stuck-up git."

"I would _not_!" he said in horror, stepping away from her in surprise. And then he wished his foot wouldn't set up shop in his mouth so often.

Why did the wench make it so hard for him to be normal? For fuck's sake, he'd nearly given away that far from wanting to hurt her in any way, he had ridiculously cheesy dreams and fantasies about her for nearly a couple months now. "You know what, Weasley," he said curtly, "I'm leaving. I have no time for this."

"Wait!"

"WHAT?" He clenched his jaw furiously, and immediately winced, unable to stop his sharp intake of breath.

"Ow," he said under his breath, frowning in confusion and some wonder.

Ginny stared at him, gazing the purpling bruise right under his jaw. Well, she remembered how that one had come about. Probably when that Trent troll had swung at him that time, sending Draco into the wall. It had terrified her.

"You're hurt," she stated huskily, moving towards him in a daze, feeling her anger quickly evaporate. "Let me look at that."

And she touched his face softly, eyes wide and shocked.

"Don't have a cow, Weasley," he muttered, wishing his heart would do such a drum roll in his chest at her touch. "I'm fine."

"Wow, you're really bruised."

"Yeah, well, that's what usually occurs when you get punched in the face." At least Trent was in far worse shape. How long did it take to replace half your teeth, anyway? Not that he wanted to find out.

He suddenly remembered that childhood fantasy, of being in a fight, defending the honor of his girl. Swaggering back with a bruise, being brave and modest while she tended to him in concern.

"Is it really bruised?" he queried in some hope, noticing that she was still staring at him, her mouth parted in surprise.

She placed a palm over his cheek, and the warmth of her hand made his eyes flicker shut for a moment.

She gave a breathy little giggle. "It's...macho."

He grinned, in spite of himself. "I have to admit, that's what I was hoping for."

She drew closer, stroking his face slowly, and he noticed how perfectly sized she was. Her lips were such that he would reach them if he bent just a tiny little bit - not enough to hurt his sore neck, at any rate. And her eyes really were beautiful. He'd known they were, but he'd never seen them up this close before...

"So you didn't answer my question," she whispered.

He grimaced. "Do I really have to?"

"Not really, Macho Man. Not if you make it up to me."

He smirked. "And how do I do that?"

She leant in closer, slowly, tantalizingly, planting a soft kiss just at the corner of his mouth, above the bruise.

She leant away, and she was grinning. "Guess."

He held her face in his hands, and looked into her eyes seriously. "Promise me one thing, then."

After all, what was the use fighting it?

"What's that?"

"Next person that grabs your butt like that..." His lips grazed her skin provocatively. "Well, if he's not me, then...I get to kill him."

"Oooh, protective." She paused, her lips so close to his, and whispered, right before she kissed him, "well, that's really macho, too."


End file.
